OREGON GEOCACHING TRIP - 2A

Finally it seemed like a decent weather window for my second trip into Oregon on my quest for logging a geocache in each county. I departed Saturday, June 12^th, a little before 7:00 a.m. The temperature was in the upper 40’s which is cooler than I’d like but at least it was dry. The first leg of the trip was the same as the last one which was in Washington. To take a break I stopped for one cache in Washington which was hidden near a big tree in thick brush down an embankment near a creek. I entered Oregon near Milton Freewater and then turned east at Weston toward the little town of Elgin. This was beautiful scenic country much of it forested and with many curves and hills – ideal for motorcycling. I logged several caches in Umatilla and Union Counties before reaching Elgin. One near Elgin required about a half mile hike out in the forest, had a beautiful view overlooking a valley and had not been logged this year.

From Elgin I turned west going through LaGrande and continuing on westward. It was more open country between Elgin and LaGrande but soon got back into the winding hilly forested roads. These were some of the most fun motorcycling road I’ve seen. After passing through John Day and Canyon City I arrived in Burns about 6:00 pm where I found several other motorcyclists staying at my motel. Some were from Canada and one from North Carolina. I had a nice stay at the Silver Spur Motel, dinner at good old Subway and even a treat at the DQ.

After breakfast at the motel I was on the road again before 7:00 heading south toward Lakeview. My first stop was at a rest stop in the desert. This cache involved about a 1/2 mile hike up a hill in the desert. It was a beautiful morning, not quite as cool as the one before but it took quite a bit of searching before I located the cache. Only Mickey Warnock (and maybe Milo) could miss a turn out in the middle of nowhere. It was located at a service station which was the only building for miles around and I guess I was looking at that. At any rate, after about 20 miles I realized my mistake (I knew I wasn’t supposed to be heading toward Bend) and had to turn around.

I found a couple of very nice caches before reaching Lakeview. One was at Lake Abert which is a beautiful alkali lake in the desert but the noseeums were terrible. The other was at Chandler Wayside and involved a steep hike up a hill. After being on a motorcycle for a long time the caches that require a bit of exertion are welcome.

I had two caches lined up in Lakeview but wasn’t able to find either one. One was actually in the museum which was closed as it was Sunday. Although I didn’t find the cache at the other location either I got a good picture of a couple of quail.

From Lakeview I ventured south into California because it was the only state west of the Mississippi that I had not logged a cache. I got two caches on the east side of Goose lake which straddles the border. I had lunch at one which was a beautiful spot at a Willow Creek Ranch memorial.

After lunch I retraced my route back to Lakeview where I gassed up before heading west toward Klamath Falls. I logged one cache between Lakeview and K Falls which took care of Klamath County. Highway 66 between K Falls and Ashland is a wonderful motorcycle road and I saw several other motorcyclists taking advantage of it. I picked up three caches on this stretch which was in Jackson County.

I arrived in Medford at the Rodeway around six o’clock. It was a much bigger city than I had imagined. I had a sandwich at a Burger King and got a couple of caches in town. After returning to the motel I lubed my chain, showered and hit the sack.

To be continued….. M/W

MORE SEWING RULES

Mike returned last night from his Oregon geocaching tour. I think he had a good time but seemed relieved to be home. He doesn't get a lot of sympathy from me. I figure any discomfort he experienced was self-imposed.

While Mike was away, Nellie (the dog) and I stayed home. And while Mike was away, summer came and went. The high on Sunday was 89 while this afternoon we're at a chilly 54 with some light rain.

Mike plans to write several posts about his Oregon experiences, but he's not ready yet, so here's one I wrote while he was away.

It's been known from the beginning of time that you can't patch old fabric with new. Jesus used this fact as a practical illustration for spiritual application. So we all agree that for the optimum end product we should use new materials. But it has come to the point that we have to think about what we're throwing away, and we seem to be experimenting with uses for old textiles in order to keep them from the burgeoning landfill.

Re-using textiles is not a new concept. Remember our pioneering ancestors who kept anything that might be useful. Clothes, curtains, and such were made from feed sacks, and then the feed companies began to play to that, using a variety of pretty prints. Some children went to school dressed in feed sack fabrics. "And we knew who they were, too," remarked a friend who lived through that time, implying that maybe it wasn't as great then as we like to remember. Today we're looking for those prints in replication. Quilts might be made from the feed sacks or from the better pieces of old clothes. One of Grandma Ina's patchwork quilts was done in dull woolen scraps with the exception of one deep red piece of velvet. I'd love to know the story of that quilt. A child's coat might be fashioned from a man's suit or overcoat. When I worked at the local museum, one of our dear volunteers made a vest for me out of a pair of her husband's old slacks to show how it was done. For that to be successful, you have to coordinate the broadest part of the female anatomy with certain wide spots in the slacks. As interesting as this re-use project sounds, I never wore that vest.

My mother, a teen-ager in the 1920s, told me that she did not have new dresses of her own. Instead, her wardrobe consisted of the dresses she made over from her mother's cast-offs. (As an aside, my Mother's parents were conservative but not poor.) If Mother liked a particular dress, she could hardly wait until it was handed down. However, in my time, my mother was finished with the concept of re-using fabric and said as much. She saw re-use as something she had moved through – something she no longer had to do. In the '50s and '60s, my growing-up years, she loved the availability of wonderful new blends and experimental fabrics. She could measure the quality of fabric by feel as well as by sight. She rarely skimped on quality and lamented it if she did. She subscribed for swatches from several mail-order fabric clubs based in New York City ("Fabrics 'Round the World" was one) until we began to see more quality fabrics in our regional stores. So, it was an exception for Mother to re-use fabric, and if she knew what I'm doing, she would cluck her tongue and say, "Kathy, can't we just go to the store and get you some fabric?"

So what is it I'm doing? I'm making doll clothes out of worn embroidered pillowslips. I'm cutting around the thin sections as best I can in order to preserve the embroidery. Here's a photo of Shirley Ann wearing a nightgown embellished by embroidery done by my mother. The pattern for the gown was originally published in 1930 for the Patsy Ann doll. I did a lot of the work on the gown by hand.

And now I'm off to prepare the guest room. Hallie is coming tomorrow to meet with one of her accounts here in the valley. We're excited because she's going to spend the weekend with us. We'll go the farm. KW

SEWING FOR DOLLS – THEN & NOW

When I was a little girl, I learned to sew by making doll clothes – first for my own dolls and then for my nieces'. (By the way, within the last year, three of those nieces became grandmothers – and they weren't the first. The picture is of Becky with granddaughter Allyn, my great-great niece.) Looking at retro doll patterns is a trip down memory lane for me. For any doll, there might be several patterns available, but Mother would make me choose just one. (Hah! If only she could see me now!) She would encourage me to compare the patterns for content, noting that they were mostly the same with certain exceptions. For instance, this pattern might have the underwear but the other would have the pajamas, or whatever. I had to decide which one I wanted. She might eventually consent to let me have the pattern not chosen, but only one pattern at a time was purchased. She was a wise lady; I recognize that she was teaching me to make good choices, to think from the standpoint of the marketing ploy involved, to avoid excesses and duplication and not to buy more than I would use. Nowadays I indulge my inclination to collect patterns, so when the lady at the eBay store Favorite Huggables said, "Choose six patterns and I'll include a seventh free," I agreed to get right back to her with my list.

Then there was the fabric. Seldom did we buy fabric for doll clothes. We made do from Mother's stash, which was abundant, but she had rules. Doll clothes were made from scraps only, not larger pieces. The challenge was to find a piece – or pieces – that would be adequate. I became adept at using the scraps. Mother would not let any remnant be cut if there was more than a yard or so. Reasonable, yes, but as I worked through that stash, the possibilities became more limited and so did opportunities for creative sewing. As I grew older and formed my own opinions – that happens, you know – I came to resent the rules because I knew Mother was never going to use those pieces she so carefully guarded. (That was insightful on my part.) It never occurred to me that I might have negotiated for a different deal. I might have said, for instance, "Look, I'd like to have more patterns and my own stash. I'll spend my allowance / babysitting money."

That was then and this is now. Now I can afford my flights of fancy and I set my own rules, though obviously I haven't forgotten my mother's training. But – it's hard to have a truly retro experience. Things change over time – not just people and places but products and methods. You can't go home again, as they say. In my childhood days, many women sewed for their families and the supplies to support sewing (called sewing notions) were available everywhere, even in my little home town. The store was called Watkin's Dry Goods – an old-fashioned name even then -- but we could get patterns, thread, zippers, etc., and some fabric. For more selection and a better price, we would drive the 42 miles to Lewiston, where such goods were readily available in several convenient locations. Now we have just one store in the Lewiston / Clarkston community supporting the broad range of sewing interests – Jo-Ann – and the available selection is not great. For instance, the other day I was looking for straight-edged lace to embellish the little garment I was making, and I could find nothing that fit the description. After an indepth online search, I finally found it at simplicity.com. I ordered plenty.

Mike left Saturday (June 12) on his Triumph motorcycle to geocache in Oregon with a dip into northern California. Messages last night and this morning indicate that all goes well. KW

COUNTRY REPORT

These are pictures I took during our recent stay at the farm. We're in town now, and Mike is packing for a four-day county-by-county geocaching tour of Oregon by motorcycle. I'm staying out of his way.

This cool, wet spring, if not appealing to humans, seems to be good for the young Montmorency sour cherry tree we planted. I believe I see new growth. We probably could have planted the evergreens after all. We were just afraid of drought conditions.




Several years ago, when neighbor Pete was tearing down the old Wright home, he said I could have any of the flora I wanted, and I transplanted some iris to our house. This year it rewarded me by blooming profusely.



But sadly, Grandma Ina's old spirea bush is dying. The rodents burrowed into the roots, killing it. I felt badly until I realized that the spirea grows abundantly there on the farm. If we choose to replace it, it will be a simple matter of transplanting a bush. Perhaps it's even time for renewal of this treasured bush.

We were grateful to see that the recent rains somewhat filled the pond, which means the old cistern also has more water. We use the cistern water to irrigate plantings around the house in the hot summertime.

Here's evidence of a bit of country politics. This new stop sign was installed a couple of months ago. Why? Is it because of increased traffic? No, it's because a couple of the neighborhood country roads were re-named -- adjusted somewhat -- supposedly to better configure them. The problem is that it's really one road, but the Curfmans don't want to live on Miller Road, and the Millers don't want to live on Curfman Road. Since the abrupt name change now occurs midway the road, a stop sign was placed to mark the end of one road and the beginning of the other. This is one stop sign we won't be heeding. No need to -- honest.

And if you're familiar with this corner, maybe you notice another change. The old Richardson homeplace was torn down this spring. It's sad to see the old places go away but really no sadder than seeing them deteriorate beyond practical repair. I believe the house had been uninhabited since the late 1950s. I'd love to have this old gate, and look at that profusion of iris. Maybe I'll ask the owner if I can lift a few for my iris bed. KW

SHE’S HERE – SHIRLEY ANN, GIRL OF THE RIDGE

I am delighted with this "gently loved" "Kit Kittredge, American Girl," which I purchased through littlemarymixup on eBay. I was the only bidder on this particular doll – who knows why. The picture showed her as perhaps a little more than "gently loved," the starting price was perhaps a little high, and she had no clothes. I won the bid and promptly had buyer's remorse, but see how well it turned out. Maybe she just had my name on her. As I unwrapped her beautiful face, Mike said, "She's a beautiful doll. Did you know she was beautiful?" And of course, I did know that the American Girl dolls are beautiful, but I didn't know what to expect of this doll.

Kit comes to me via Connecticut where she was the favorite of a little girl who grew into other interests. Kit needed a new life, so she has come here to pretend she's Shirley Ann, Girl of the Ridge. She's going to help me explore and illustrate what life was like for a farm girl living on a ridge in central Idaho in the '30s and '40s. Her new persona is an idea that has been gently unfolding to me over the last few years -- buy an American Girl doll, then make a wardrobe and quilts representative of the era. Once I got past the point of wondering if I really ought to make myself grow up, I found a lot of other adults happily playing in this way – perhaps even my childhood best friend.

Doll clothes with their tight corners and quarter-inch seams are not easy to make and are thus a reasonable endeavor in the perfecting of sewing skills. Making doll clothes allows for practice where the outcome isn't crucial. Failure is not daunting because the investment of time and money is not great. You can start all over if you want to. You can make, re-make, and make again. You can give creative expression a whirl and the doll will never complain that she doesn't like it. And it was thrilling to discover that sewists have explored the way before me by using patterns published in the 1930s for the Patsy Ann doll. I'm looking forward to using copies of these patterns which I purchased through the eBay store, Favorite Huggables. I even found a couple of patterns in my mother's collection that might work for Shirley Ann. And of course, when Emerson has an American Girl doll, Shirley Ann can model the clothes that I make for her.

I promised myself that Shirley Ann would not appear naked again, but I needed the doll before I could use the retro patterns, which might need a little altering. I made the apron from a contemporary pattern using two retro 1930s fat quarters. The quilt I found amongst some old doll clothes of mine, but I don't remember where it came from.

We're in town now. It's pouring rain -- I mean a "frog strangler," a "gully washer." Lightning and thunder and rain -- Oh my! Nellie is hiding in the kitchen. Mike left on his motorcycle to run errands in town. Hopefully he's in a dry spot right now. In other late-breaking news, brother Chuck and Joanne are in town to attend an OHS class reunion this coming weekend. They're coming here to dinner tomorrow night. Menu: pheasant enchiladas, broccoli salad, and lemon cake. KW

TRIP TO TOWN

Mike had to go to Orofino this morning. (Orofino is my hometown -- 10 miles down the steep and winding, narrow Gilbert Grade from the old Dobson home place which we call the farm.) On the way into town we stopped in the park so that I could take pictures of the Clearwater River -- high and swift as the result of spring rains. Fortunately a levee system now keeps the river from flowing into the park and the low spots in the center of town.

These stairs ordinarily provide access to the river bank from the levee walkway between the park and the river. Now the water covers the bottom steps.




Turn left at the end of the bridge to go to Missoula (150 miles) or right to Lewiston (42 miles).




This picture was taken from the bridge looking back to the tree in the first photo.





One of the lawnmower tires wouldn't hold air, so we dropped it off at Les Schwab. We were there when I took this picture. Can you see the bare brown spot on the hill in the center of the photo? That spot is on the Gilbert Grade.



Then we went on to Napa Auto Parts where Mike was successful in finding a part he needed for the old lawnmower. Again, from that parking lot I took a picture of "the hills of home." You can see the same bare spot -- look hard.


It seemed warmer in Orofino than at the farm. Mike took his sweater off. The sun was shining in that interval of time, but as we returned to the farm, dark clouds to the west rolled in and it commenced to pour. I took a few pictures anyway. Here fog drifts across the north field.




Darkness came over the yard. And that's the way it's been for the past week. We just think it's going to clear up, and another storm rolls through. KW

KATHY’S HANDY-DANDY (HUGE) FANNY PACK

If you're one who's experienced geocaching with Mike, you probably understand. "Here –" he says, "you carry the notebook. And be sure to bring the camera." And then we're leaving the car, so I take my purse. And there I am – purse hanging on left shoulder, notebook in right hand, camera dangling from strap over wrist. Thus encumbered, I negotiate rocks, navigate through grass, sometimes hike a mile or more – all with a vague feeling of resentment. And then there's also walking Nellie in the summer or hiking along on the early autumn hunts when it's still hot. Nellie doesn't tolerate the heat well and needs water on hot days.

"I need a hiker's fanny pack," I explained to Mike. "One that's large enough to carry water, the notebook, the camera, and such items as I need from my purse." That was all he needed to begin a search for the right pack. Well, the choices were few, which always seems to be the case when you have criteria. Still, when it came it looked mighty big. I thought about returning it but decided that for all I wanted to carry, something smaller probably wouldn't work.

The weather has been unsettled with storm fronts passing through in waves. Typical of this time of year, though, when the sun is out, it's warm. When I took Nellie for her walk Friday afternoon, she cooled herself in a mud puddle. So on Saturday we tried the new pack, carrying water, a pie tin for her to lap from, and the camera.


I did find the pack cumbersome, so I left it in a secluded spot at the bottom of a hill. As we returned from our climb, Nellie got to the pack first and seemed to know it was water. She waited patiently as I poured water into the dish, then drank thirstily.

We're at the farm now, and this is another rainy day. The Snake River is over the levee bike path in low spots between Clarkston and Asotin. The Clearwater River is also high. Mike is out putting the blade back on the lawnmower. Nellie is asleep in front of the fire, and I'm just settling in. KW